Making Do
by A. Windsor
Summary: One shot sequel to “Not At All”. Ten years after “You’re Welcome”, Angel, Cordy, and the twins complete their new family.


Title: Making Do

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Angel, Cordelia, Bella & Henry McAlister, Connor Reilly

Pairings: Angel/Cordelia

Summary: One shot sequel to "Not At All". Ten years after "You're Welcome", Angel, Cordy, and the twins complete their new family.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters (sans Bella and Henry McAlister) aren't mine, but the situation is.

Author's Note: Thanks for the great response to the first fic in this series, Not At All. At the moment, plans are in the works for a multi-part threequel and some stories set in the alternaverse often referenced.

* * *

Twenty days at sea has made Henry a little antsy, to say the least, and even sweet-tempered Bella is beginning to show an edge when the boat finally docks. They are ecstatic to hit land again, though in his earnestness to get there, Henry's sea legs betray him and he falls flat on his face. He gets up laughing, however, and claims the first thing he's going to do in New York is eat a hot dog.

Angel, on the other hand, is grateful for the relative safety of those twenty days at sea, and the solitude it granted this newly formed family to strengthen their bond. Angel learned everything he could about the twins while en route to NYC, their moods, their tempers, what they found funny, what terrified them. Their greatest and worst memories were shared over games of speed and spit and BS with their tattered and well-traveled deck of cards. They in turn asked him lots of questions about his past, about their Cordy. Angel answered as honestly as he could for the minds of ten-year-olds; no matter what horrors they had seen, he isn't quite ready for them to know the kind of monster he was.

New York is to be the launching point for their next series of leapfrogging moves. The destination is Latin America, which is La Familia Rojas's territory. Las Rojas are set on capturing the twins alive, which make their lands marginally safer than those of 'Abd al-Hamid or Xui, who are dead-set on obtaining Slayer halves' corpses or those of Afolabi and Wolfram and Hart, who could go either way. They will stay two nights, three at the most, so that they can regain their land legs and obtain supplies before they head south. After that, it's time to run again.

Angel spends the day in their motel, looking at maps. Cordy has explained to him the way they live, where they stay, how they travel. Now they can only travel at night, which has begun to make Angel feel guilty. Night is when they're most vulnerable, and he has damned them to it. But Cordy quickly rebuffs him when he brings this up, merely presses her lips to his and says they'll just have to deal with the new circumstances. For their part, Bella and Henry have yet to really complain. They are amazing kids; life on the run has conditioned them to so much.

Cordy and the twins return from a day at Central Park with take-out Chinese for themselves and pig's blood for Angel. Cordy pours his blood with a practiced ease that warms his unbeating heart, and after dinner, the twins flip on the TV and get caught up in some cheesy movie until they fall asleep tangled like puppies on their double bed.

Cordy emerges from the shower while Angel is still bent over the maps, his pale face lighted only by the blue glow of the now-muted television.

"Made any headway?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper, knowing Angel's vampiric hearing will catch it.

"Maybe. You have more experience in this. I was thinking we could get to the Carolinas tomorrow night, then make it down to Miami eventually."

"And a boat from there? Good idea. Las Rojas have more power than Wolfram and Hart in Miami."

Life in close proximity to a pair of ten-year-olds kept whatever relationship he now has with Cordelia relatively chaste. His body burns for her the way it always has, but for now they've limited their interactions to stolen kisses and rather innocent touching. Dressed in the tee-shirt and sweats of his she'd been given back in Scotland, Cordy leans against the back of Angel's chair, running her fingers through his hair.

"How are you adjusting?" she asks softly, tipping his head to the side so she can see his eyes.

"Fine."

She smiles lightly, if a little scoldingly. "You sound like Bella."

"I'm with you. That's enough."

Her mega-watt smile emerges, warming him. He leans up to kiss her.

Henry wakes up screaming.

Cordelia handles it with practiced ease, rushing to gather him into her arms and soothe him. Angel, who's never seen Henry like this, finds that he's frozen in the face of the boy's strange and painful powers. He'd experienced a mild one back at the castle, but this was worse. This is too much like the visions of Cordy's past, but he feels even more powerless to help him.

"Baby, what'd you see?" Cordy asks, voice soft and wonderful.

Henry's breath comes in short gasps.

Bella, wakened by her brother's distress, slips silently into Angel's lap, pressing her ear to where his heart should be. The Slayer-child is unnaturally comfortable with the ensouled vampire. It is as if the monster within him soothes her own deeply buried demon.

"Deep breaths, Hen. Take it slow."

A shuddering sob racks Henry's small frame, and then a deep breath gets caught in his throat. The darkened room begins to brighten as Cordelia begins to emit a soft, white light, which seems to calm the boy.

He stutters over the first syllable as he struggles to control himself. "Co-, Co-…" He takes a deep breath. "Connor."

Angel's grip on Bella grows tighter, but the Slayer doesn't object. Cordy's light falters and dims.

"What about Connor, Henry?"

"A man, Connor, broken. A woman, pretty, dead. A baby, crying, hungry."

Cordy's face pales. "Angel, where is Connor?"

"Philadelphia. He just got married. His wife was due…. Two weeks ago. Oh God, Kelly. Henry, what did the woman look like?"

"Blonde."

That he provides nothing else pulls at Cordy's heart, wondering how mangled the woman must be.

"Is this one a happening, happened, or will happen, bubba?"

"Will happen, I think. Very soon. Maybe a happening."

"Philly's a two-hour drive. We can make it by sun-up," Cordy says, jumping up. She presses a kiss to Henry's forehead. "Good boy, Henry. Go wash up and put on some traveling clothes. I'm going to get us a car."

"At this time of night?" Angel questions, lifting Bella off his lap and sending her to comfort her brother.

"Higher Being, remember? I have connections. Try and get Connor on the phone, okay?" She pauses and squeezes his shoulder, comfortingly. "We'll get there."

* * *

But they don't. Not in time. By the time they get to Philadelphia, blowing several speed limits on I-95, the door to Connor's suburban, white-picket fence house is broken in and blood smeared in the foyer. In the worry and shock of it all, Angel is surprised that his brain focuses on the fact that Cordy doesn't shield the twins from the horror before them, and neither do the twins, though obviously upset, reveal more than a flinch in the face of the desiccated body before them.

Connor is still alive, but apparently in shock. Two demon corpses lay on the floor, next to them a pile of dust that was probably once a vampire. Angel's son is crouched next to his wife's body, blue eyes unseeing, face emotionless. He doesn't touch the body, doesn't cry and moan and wail. He doesn't even acknowledge the new arrivals.

An infant's cries do penetrate the silence, and Cordy, eyes and cheeks wet as she takes in the sight before her, leaps into action, Henry in tow as they search for the neglected baby.

The baby, who can't be more than a week or two old, wails in his bassinet in his parents' untouched bedroom. A pale blue blanket, displaced by his flailing limbs, was once tucked around him with care. Embroidered at the corner is "Lucas Jacob Reilly, June 15, 2014". Cordy hastily swaddles the angry newborn in the blanket and scoops him up, rocking him against her breast as she whispers soothing nothings at him.

"Henry, buddy, go check the refrigerator for bottles, okay?"

The boy, in awe of the screaming infant, nods and backs away. "Alright, Cordy." He pauses in the doorway. "Cordy?"

"Yeah, baby?" she asks, her heart breaking for poor little Lucas.

"Doyle didn't tell me. Who's Connor?"

A laugh nearly bubbles up from her throat despite, or maybe because of, the horrifying reality of the situation. Of course Henry would wait until now to ask just what the significance was of the name that sent the adults in his life speeding down the highway when no one was even chasing them.

"Connor is Angel's son."

"Oh. So that's his grandson?"

This time Cordelia does laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Yes. I guess he is. Get him something to eat, okay?"

Henry, now understanding the full reality of the situation, heads towards to the kitchen with his own tears escaping those beautiful blue eyes.

Holding the swaddled baby close, Cordy takes a breath and lets her light wash over the tiny infant. It calms him to mere whimpers, but he's still scared and starving. Cordy takes him back to the living room, surprised as she sees Bella crouched close to Connor, mindless of the gore, hand gently on his arm.

"He's not talking," Angel says. "But he's letting her touch him; he kicked me across the room." He pauses, grimacing, powerless. His eyes ghost over the bundle in Cordelia's arms. "Oh, wow. Is that?"

"Lucas Jacob Reilly," Cordy nods. "Your grandson."

Even Lucas's whimpers don't penetrate Connor's shock, but Angel's heart breaks. He extends his arms for Cordelia to place the newborn in them. The move is completed with an efficiency they mastered in a few short months a lifetime ago, and it reminds them that the broken man in front of them now was once, briefly, the tiny, screaming infant they'd devoted their lives to. No matter what had happened to whom in between now and then, he was once _their _son.

"Connor," Bella starts, surprising the adults in the room. "Connor, your baby needs you."

Henry arrives with the bottle and hands it off to Angel. It's cold, but at this point Lucas doesn't seem to care, eagerly guzzling the ounces of formula.

"We'll probably need another one, Henry," Angel says kindly. "Maybe run it under some hot water?"

Henry nods and disappears.

"Connor," Bella tries again, oblivious to the stench of blood rising in the room. "Connor, your baby…"

"I'm a monster," Connor whispers, interrupting her. All eyes leap to him. "I tried to run from it. Pretend the memories weren't real, that I wasn't different. But that was all a lie. The demon is the truth. The child of two vampires."

"No," Cordy says. "No, Connor. The Powers That Be dealt you a shitty hand, and we let you down, but you are not a monster."

Connor doesn't look up at this new voice, but does seem to listen. His voice gets even softer.

"Then what am I?"

"The fulfillment of all my dreams," Angel says sincerely. "Like Lucas must be of yours."

Connor looks at Angel briefly, but refuses to look at his own son.

"Connor," Cordelia tries again.

Vacant blue eyes flash with barely visible recognition.

"You're dead."

"Kinda."

"Jasmine…"

"That wasn't this Cordy, Connor," Angel pleads, handing the empty bottle to Henry and offering the warm formula to little Lucas.

Confusion glazes Connor's eyes again.

"What happened here?" Bella questions, voice gentle and meant only for Connor's ears. "Was it a random attack? Were there threats? Was it…"

"Wolfram and Hart," Henry interrupts.

"Did you dream that?" Angel asks skeptically.

"No. This was on the coffee table."

The boy is holding a white business card, pristine except the tiny dots of arterial spray.

"We have to go," Cordy says quickly. "They could be back. They can't find us."

"We only have an hour until sunrise."

"You can hide under a blanket until we're far enough away. Henry, Bella, grab food from the kitchen. Any bottles and formula you can find, too."

The twins jump into action; they're good at clearing out in a hurry.

"I'll pack bags for Connor and Lucas," Cordy says, more gently, resting her hand on Angel's arm. "Try to get him ready to go."

Angel nods, still cradling his grandson.

"Connor."

"I can't leave her."

"Your son needs you."

"I can't leave her."

"I won't leave you."

"I can't…"

"Don't look," Angel murmurs to the infant in his arms. With a swift punch, he knocks his son out.

"That's not what I really was expecting when I said to get him ready, but all right," Cordy says from the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Angel says, shifting the now sleeping infant into Cordy's arms. "This makes everything harder."

Running a finger over Lucas's soft cheek and thinking of another baby in that other reality, Cordy shakes her head. "We'll make do. We're together."

* * *

el fin 


End file.
